


Before We All

by zeri



Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8877190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeri/pseuds/zeri
Summary: Red likes the way he looks and the way he looks at her. She likes the way he believes in her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Icie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icie/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, Icie! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> [We All Become song and lyrics.](https://supergiantgames.bandcamp.com/track/we-all-become)

Red has been trying to ignore Sybil and Boxer's discussion outside the door, but it's pointless. The only way she can keep from hearing them is by humming loud enough to drown out the noise, but humming an old song keeps her from being able to figure out the notes for her new song. She sighs and runs a hand through her bangs, pulling the strands briefly across her face.

"I made an inquiry, and zero percent of Cloudbank citizens chose nonselection. What's the point in keeping it a secret?" One of Sybil's pet projects - and how she has time for yet another one, Red has no idea - is figuring out what Boxer's selections were. Normally, anyone can just look it up, but 'Boxer' is a fake name and no one seems to know his real one. Selection is required for OVC use and a million other things, so Boxer either avoids them or only uses them once Red had already logged in. Red has no idea how he had gotten by before he began working for her.

"I don't know what to tell you. I never selected. Anyway, statistical returns to Central Administration inquiries always round to the nearest whole number. Maybe I'm just among that less than half of a percent?"

Sybil makes a scoffing sound, and since Red has never known Sybil to be anything other than perfectly friendly, she takes this as her cue to open the door. "Hey."

Boxer's smile, which was definitely something plastered on a moment ago, melts into something warm and real. Sybil brightens as well, turning her whole body towards Red like a sunflower towards the sun. "Red!" Sybil says, delight evident in her tone. "I didn't mean to bother you, I just need something from my office. You can keep using it, I'll be quick."

"That's okay, I think I'm done for the day."

"Oh... all right." The edges of Sybil's smile turn down, just a bit. "Nobody's been bothering you lately, have they?"

Red throws a fake punch at Boxer's arm. "Nope. That's what I keep this guy around for."

"Well. As long as he's doing his job." 

Boxer shifts slightly and looks down the hall, away from them. Red says her goodbyes and they leave, silent down the hallway and out of the building until she can be sure that Sybil can't possibly be within earshot. Red speaks up again to say, "I don't understand how you don't like Sybil. Everyone likes Sybil."

"Not everyone," Boxer says mildly without looking at her. Above her head, Boxer's gaze turns from side to side, keeping an eye on their surroundings and the people nearby. When someone's gaze lingers a moment too long, Boxer steps between them and Red and holds eye contact with the stranger. Invariably, they are either embarrassed or intimidated, and they continue on their way. "I don't like her."

"Less than half a percent still rounds down to zero," Red reminds him. 

"Ouch," Boxer chuckles. "Got me there."

Sybil's office is within walking distance of Red's apartment. They keep up light chatter until they reach her door. Boxer says the same thing every time he drops her off - 'Have a good night, Red. I'll see you tomorrow.' - but this time, she turns around and cuts him off before he can get out more than the first word. "Do you want to come in for coffee?"

Looking up, Red is charmed all over again by how expressive Boxer's face is. His jawline and cheekbones are sharp and fine, and his expression pulls tight against his features in surprise. She doesn't know his real name, doesn't even know what fields he Selected as his life work, but she knows every thought that crosses his mind just be looking at his face. Every smile is a frown for Sybil, every glare at a stranger is a warning, every glance to the painted sky is full of quiet admiration.

Whenever Boxer looks at Red, his features soften just a tad. When he thinks she isn't looking, his eyes are gentle, his lips part slightly, he leans towards her. 

She wonders what her face looks like when she looks at him.

"It's not professional."

"Off the clock," she urges. 

He nods, just slightly, a tilt of the head. Red unlocks the door and leads the way in.

-

They actually have coffee. Red's clothes only come off while she's alone in her bedroom, changing into pajamas because it's late and she wants to be comfortable while they talk. Red knows that people find her beautiful, that her voice is lovely, and that sex helps to keep her partners emotionally attached. Boxer is content to look at her while she speaks, to listen and contribute when she talks about things that are important to her, and he's already emotionally attached without them falling into bed together.

"I'm still angry about that fight," Red confesses, leaning back into his warm chest. One of his arms is around her waist like a seatbelt, keeping her securely against him. The other is playing with her bangs, running his fingers through them like Red so often does. "No physical altercations in Cloudbank in _four years_ , and someone starts a fight at one of my concerts."

"I read about that," Boxer says. 

Red read about it too. She'd secluded herself afterwards and didn't leave her apartment until she'd hired Boxer as a bodyguard, through a friend's recommendation. She hadn't spoken to any of her music-related friends, even Sybil, until she felt safe enough to walk outside again. _An actual fight._ The only way for her to hear about the aftermath and public opinion of the incident had been to read the articles that OVC published about the matter.

"The administrators released a statement clearing me of wrongdoing, you know," she says bitterly. His arm grips her a little more tightly. "Because I might have somehow intended for a song opposing the homogenization of public opinion to lead to violence."

"It was 'We All Become'? I like that one."

Red turned in his grip, although it took a moment for him to loosen his arm enough to allow her to do so. "I didn't know you're a fan," she says as she studies his face.

Boxer's face flushes a little in embarrassment. He avoids eye contact. "I started listening just before you hired me," he confesses. "After the Goldwalk Channel won the vote."

"That's Chein's project, right?" Niola Chein's most recent project was the Channel, a gallery space for artists who worked with unpopular topics or mediums. The alternate, also popular possibility for the space had been a metro station to connect Goldwalk to Highrise, where Red lives. Red had abstained from voting on the matter, mostly because while she fully believed in supporting other people in the art community, she also really liked the idea of getting to Goldwalk twice as fast.

"Before 'We All Become' hit the charts, the Channel was polled at 23% of the popular vote. After it became popular, when the vote actually went through, the Channel won with 54% of the vote."

Red stares at him. "You can't...." she says weakly. She clears her throat and tries again. "You can't link those with any certainty. Just because the timing-"

"Similar things happened with votes all over the city. People who had been voting along with the popular side started voting for whatever they actually wanted, even when it still didn't win. Hand me your phone, I've been pulling the statistics daily to chart them next to the popularity of your song..."

"I didn't cause that fight," Red tries as she unlocks her phone and hands it over.

"Of course you didn't," Boxer agrees as his thumb swipes and taps across the screen. "You encouraged people to think for themselves. It's not your fault that one of those people happened to be a moron."

There's a reason that Red's two Selections are music and linguistics. For as long as she could remember, Red wanted to write sons that changed people's emotions. Songs to make people sad or happy or lovelorn, whatever the listener wanted to feel. She'd thought that the only change she could make to people would be their moods, and that would be enough.

But this... is it possibly to inspire new _behaviors_? To change people themselves... that would be more power than Red has ever dreamed of. Something that no one else is trying, a stage just for her.

She doesn't know if that's really what she wants. If it's true, then it's a scary sort of power, one that Red isn't sure that she comfortable with. But she wouldn't have ever even _seen_ it if Boxer hadn't seen it first.

Red leans into Boxer's chest as he describes the study he's been making of the effects of her music. He pauses for a moment, an extra breath between words in a sentence, before he continues. His free hand runs the length of her spine, solid and warm, from her neck to the small of her back and back up again. "I've got you, Red," he murmurs.

Her eyes are watering. She closes them and inhales his smell, the lingering leather in his scent from the jacket that he took off hours ago, the clean smell of the detergent used to wash his shirt, and something warm that is uniquely him. 

She breathes deeply, quietly. She's fairly certain that she just fell a little in love.

"Just take your time. I've got you."

**Author's Note:**

> 'Selections' in the game seems to be like college majors, except for your life. The game states that 'Boxer' declined Selection but also that 0% residents of Cloudbank have chosen 'nonselection'. My personal theory is that he's just never gotten around to picking them, which hasn't occurred to Sybil here.
> 
> I have a lot of theories about Cloudbank that didn't have a place here. Maybe later.


End file.
